


Knock, Knock

by thaliachaunacy (thalialunacy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-18
Updated: 2007-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thaliachaunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one with the awkward first-time girl-sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock, Knock

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the back-to-school challenge at The Smutty Project (no longer existant), which was a first time fic challenge. the last line is jacked from an ani difranco song. the actual sex is pretty much exactly what happened to me the first time i had sex with a woman. you will read the word ‘cunt’, as it has come back into modern feminist lingo in an attempt to strip away the shitty stigmas that have been put on it. also, i use varying POVs and narrative styles, so watch out. XD

Another lazy Sunday. Harry sat at Hermione’s kitchen table, flipping through a magazine and listening to her talk to her mother on the phone. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to what she was saying; every now and then something of interest would catch his ear, but his mind was elsewhere. He really could barely focus on the pages of the magazine after the night he’d had. He’d come over so he could talk to Hermione about it, as she seemed to have a knack for interpreting odd romantic gestures of psychologically perplexing people. And Malfoy could, Harry’d daresay, be counted in that category.

"Mum, stop it!" He vaguely heard Hermione’s happily nervous giggle and looked up to see a small grin on her face. "Don't start picking out mother-of-the-bride dresses, all right?” There was a pause. “Of course, of course, Mum, don’t worry. Ron’s a very nice boy and I do like him very much. I’m just too young to be thinking about all of that! I’ve only just left school…” She let out a breath as her mother kept talking. “Yes, work is lovely so far. They’ve started me on a study as to why Snagglepusses are suddenly gravitating towards the Tubes to mate…”

He snorted and looked down at the Quidditch reader again, letting her voice fade into white noise for a bit. His mind drifted… until --

“Oh yes, Cho’s doing well!” Harry’s raised his head and watched Hermione curiously. He knew they had become friends during school, but hadn’t though they’d kept in touch since Cho had finished. “Her team has nearly won every trophy they make for the sport, and it’s only her second season with them.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear in a fidgety way as she listened to her mother. “She wrote me the other day, asking about something at the Ministry, and told me all about it.” Harry blinked. Hermione had the same small smile on her face that she’d had when speaking about Ron.

 _Well, well,_ Harry thought, raising an eyebrow. _What have we here?_

***

“So what _is_ it that you find so boring about Quidditch?” Cho pushed her plate back and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Oh, it’s not that it’s boring!” Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder and set her fork down. “It’s just that it’s so—well, it’s just sort of—” Cho snickered and Hermione huffed. “All right, it is boring, if you really must know. I mean, certainly not to the rest of the world but to me it’s just ghastly. I can appreciate the skill, obviously, but it frightens me to death and truly I don’t see the point.”

“Ah-ha,” Cho said, pointing a finger at Hermione. “Did you fall off a broomstick as a child?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m Muggle-born, remember? I didn’t even touch one until First Year.”

Cho snapped her fingers. “Right. Tumble from a swingset, then? Older brother shove you off the slide once?”

Hermione shook her head. “Never. Only child.”

Cho studied her for a moment. “Then you are just a bona fide--”

“Bookworm, I know, I know.” Hermione waved her hand dismissively.

“—enigma, actually, was what I was going to say.”

Hermione’s mouth opened but nothing came out. “Oh,” she said finally. “Well, thanks for that.”

Cho inclined her head slightly. “Welcome.”

Hermione fidgeted with her napkin. Cho’s finger tapped against the tabletop.

“It probably doesn’t help,” Cho began in easy tones, “that you watched your best friend nearly fall to his death from a Quidditch broom more than once.”

Hermione’s fingers fumbled slightly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“How is he, by the way?” She surrepticiously twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger.

Hermione abandoned the napkin with a loud sound of exasperation. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

Cho’s eyes twinkled and her hand stilled. “Try me.”

“He’s been having a torrid affair...”

“What’s so shocking about that?”

“…with Draco Malfoy.”

Cho chuckled, the low sound resonating in the wood-furnished restaurant. “Figures.”

Hermione looked up at her, obviously surprised. “In what _sense_?”

“Draco Malfoy’s notorious for his torried affairs. He had a fling with Terry Boot in the Potions Supply Closet every other week for all of his seventh year."

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth. "You're joking!" She sat back in her chair. “That lad! And Terry was always chatting me up in Herbology.”

Cho’s smirk widened. “He probably though you’d help him with homework.” Hermione shot her a puzzled look. “Oh, he was a Ravenclaw, but he was also a lazy-arsed procrastinator.”

“Rat.”

“Definitely.”

There was a comfortable pause. Cho studied Hermione carefully before asking her next question. “And how’s Ron been?”

Hermione picked at her napkin again. There was a small smile on her face. “Well. Really well. His job is top notch, and he’s been going out with his mates a lot.”

“Sounds well enough.”

“Quite.” Hermione’s gaze didn’t move from her napkin.

Cho reached over and touched Hermione’s hand lightly. Hermione looked up quickly, her eyes wide. “What’s happened?”

Hermione’s face was a mix of emotions. “I’m not sure, exactly.”

“Someone take a picture.” Cho smiled gently. “Is he still in love with you?”

“I don’t think he’s seeing anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s just--”

“That wasn’t what I was asking.”

Hermione’s eyebrows drew together. “I know.” She stared at the tablecloth a bit longer, then took a deep breath and looked up. “Yes, he is still in love with me. He’s made it very clear that he’d like to settle down, have a brood like his parents, and live happily ever after.”

“But…”

Hermione exhaled. “But. I told him I needed space.”

Cho let out a low whistle. “Must have been a fun conversation.”

Hermione laughed lowly. “You could say that.”

“So you’re not seeing him at all?”

“I am. I do have feelings for him. It’s just--we’re taking it one step at a time.”

Cho nodded. “Makes sense.”

Hermione looked at her enquiringly. “Oh?”

“Absolutely. You’re barely out of school. Take your time.” She held Hermione’s eyes. “Explore your options.”

Hermione wavered but didn’t break the gaze. “Is that what you’re doing?”

Cho blinked. “I suppose so, yes.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “You know I didn’t see anyone during school after Harry, as I didn’t want to cause anyone else emotional trauma,” she said, a corner of her mouth turning up momentarily. “Then, once I left Hogwarts, I… I needed to be by myself for a while. To figure some things out.” She paused while the waitress picked up their plates. Then she reached for her napkin and began folding it, following the creases with her fingers several times each. “And now I’m sort of exploring, yes. Quidditch takes up a lot of time and I haven’t really liked anyone enough to get seriously involved.” She looked up at Hermione again. “I’m hoping that will change.”

***

It was amazing, really, that of all the witches I knew, the one I wanted--really the first one I’d ever wanted--was Hermione Granger. The logic sat in the back of my mind somewhere as she stood on the threshold of my flat, attempting not to look embarrassed, but what I was thinking was not logical. I simply wanted to bring her inside and kiss all that embarrassment away.

But I knew I couldn’t. Logically. She needed time. Goodness, I probably needed time. I hadn’t felt this way about someone in years and it was a tad bit overwhelming.

I reached for her carefully, touching her arm and taking a small step towards her. “Dinner was lovely.”

A smile broke out on her face easily. “It was, wasn’t it? I haven’t had such good salmon in months, and that place is just darling! To think, I never knew it existed! I must’ve—”

My hand cupped her cheek and her chatter came to an abrupt end. She stared at me, wide-eyed. Her gaze flicked down to my lips and her chin jutted out just the littlest bit. I wanted so badly to kiss her, and miraculously it didn’t seem that she’d mind. _Just one,_ I thought to myself. _Just so I know_.

My thumb gently stroked her cheek as our bodies leaned in. I felt like I was 15 again. Nervousness washed over me and I stopped just short of contact. “May I?” My voice came out in low tones, not sounding like my own. For a moment all I could hear was our breathing, and my heart contracted painfully.

Then a small noise came from her, and suddenly her lips were pressed against mine.

They were soft and perfect, and surprisingly enough, so was the kiss. Disappointingly short, but when she pulled back and looked at me in wonder, touching her lips with a slightly trembling finger, I forgot all disappointment.

“It’s different,” she said candidly, almost without thinking.

“Yes, it is.”

She smiled tentatively. “I don’t think I mind.”

I bit back a ridiculous giggle. “Neither do I, in fact.”

She glanced at me, then the tension broke and she burst out laughing. I found myself laughing with her, and it rang through the night air. She reached for me congenially, grabbing my arm as if to steady herself, then as the laughter subsided we discovered that our fingers were intertwined. My heart flipped over as her thumb gently rubbed across my palm. I held my breath, unable to move for fear of scaring her away.

***

Her hands are rough, rougher than mine at least, arguably from Quidditch, which intrigues me and I spend moments just running my fingers over her palm. She stills for a few seconds, then tightens her fingers around mine. I look up.

“That tickles.”

She’s lying, I can tell. Her face is impassive but a flush has crept up in her cheeks, just the tiniest powdering of pink. That’s not reaction to a tickle. That’s something else entirely.

My stomach jumps and I am flooded with an odd sense of pride. I caused that, logically. My fingers across her skin have given her pleasure. What a brilliant concept.

“I—” The words stick in my mouth, which is inexplicably dry. Then she runs a finger along the back of my hand and a shiver of heat runs up my arm.

Not so inexplicable after all.

I know this is the moment where I have to decide. I’ve been here many times with Ron. She’s looking at me questioningly, lovingly, and the air between us tells me it’s time to either stay for good or go home till next time. I’m not ready to stay. I can’t possibly stay.

I take a breath to say goodnight. “I want to kiss you again.”

My hand claps over my mouth. She’s laughing delightedly and I can feel my face flushing. Never once have I been this stupidly forward with Ron. “I—Sorry—I don’t know—” She’s still laughing and I want to crawl in a small hole and die.

Then I feel her squeeze my hand gently.

“It’s all right. Kissing is just kissing, Hermione.”

I look at her for a long moment. I like the way she pronounces my name. I like the way her lips look, trim and useful. I like the way her hair shines nearly blue in the porch light.

I like the way her fingers are stroking mine.

***

Their lips meet again and suddenly it’s not so chaste. There is an urgency in Hermione, as if she has to act before something catches up with her, and Cho has the fervor of someone who has been holding herself at bay for too long. Hermione finds Cho’s tongue sliding into her mouth and her body shudders, shocked by sensation. Cho snakes her arm around Hermione’s waist and pulls her closer, kissing her again, loving the feeling of saliva and skin and the sweet taste of another woman.

The kissing goes well, though their teeth bump once and Hermione remembers belatedly that she had large amounts of garlic for dinner. Then she feels Cho’s hand sneak under the hem of her jacket in search of warm skin, and a tingle radiates through her body, starting at the small of her back, thoroughly distracting her from such thoughts.

Cho breaks the kiss, far too soon in Hermione’s measure, and pulls back to look Hermione in the eye. She knows it’s a risk but the words tumble out anyway. “D’you want to stay?”

Hermione chokes on a breath and Cho jerks back hastily, her face pale and her stomach churning. “Sorry, I—”

Hermione reaches out but can’t find the courage to touch the other woman. “No, it’s not—“

“—idiotic of me to ask, really, I—”

“—I want to.”

Cho stops short and stares, her whole body at a standstill. “You do?”

Hermione swallows and nods, her heart thumping against her chest and her palms sweating. “I think so.”

Cho’s eyes narrow slightly. “You think so?”

“Yes—I mean, no--” Hermione winces. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking very clearly, and it’s a new experience for me, and I’m not dealing with it very well.”

A laugh bubbles up in Cho’s throat. “I know exactly what you mean.” She meets Hermione’s eyes, hope dancing inside her. “But it’s not Arithmancy, Hermione. Either you want to or you don’t.”

Hermione’s stomach aches. It just doesn’t feel that simple somehow. “Right.”

Cho’s voice softens and she looks at Hermione with affection in her eyes. “I don’t want to be a regret.”

Hermione blinks, processing that statement and its layers. Her mind flips through the pros and cons, the possibilities and the consequences, as she looks at Cho. She realizes conclusively that she has no reason to leave.

“I trust you,” she says quietly.

Cho breathes out, the tightness in her chest loosening. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She reaches out to touch Hermione’s arm. “There is no obligation here. Just … opportunity.”

***

It takes me two tries to get my key to work in the door. I hope you’re not watching. I finally push the door open and turn to you.

You smile at me, a knowing look in your eyes, and I feel my face flush a bit more. I duck away from your gaze by holding open the door, and as you pass in front of me our bodies brush together. Heat runs through me and my nerves thrum with anticipation.

I find myself putting a hand on your arm, keeping our bodies in contact. You turn to me questioningly, and the sight of your delicate features flushed with excitement makes my insides liquify. I press my lips to yours without a thought.

You arch your body against mine and desire wells up in me fiercely. My fingers tangle in your hair and my tongue touches yours, shaping and building kiss after kiss together as want infuses my whole body.

You’re clutching at my jacket and making delicious sounds in the back of your throat, and my mind finally catches up with me. I break away, breathing deeply, and lean my forehead against yours. “Perhaps we should at least close the door. I could show you my flat, we could have some wine…”

I trail off as you shake your head and slide your cheek next to mine. I feel your warm breath on my ear. “Opportunity.”

A low groan escapes my lips. I pull you tightly against me and search out your lips again, pushing us out of the entryway and letting the door slam behind us as I kiss you thoroughly. I push at your jacket and you allow me to slide it off your body. It flumps to the floor, quickly followed by mine. Heavy need is gathering in my body as our take on more ardour.

Then I feel your fingers under the hem of my t-shirt and bright lights flash in my mind. I feel obligated to speak. “Hermione,” I whisper, struggling for breath, “I must tell you--I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You laugh loudly, your breath warm across my face. “And you think I do?”

I blink at you. “Well, I was assuming you’d—done—things—with Ron…”

Your face clouds over and I immediately feel bad. “No, actually.”

This floors me, but I try to hide it. “Oh?”

“He kisses me every time we say goodnight, but that’s all. I just haven’t—been ready.”

“Oh.” My heart is beating so fast it feels unnatural. “And you’re ready now, here, with—me?”

You look at me, the clouds gone, a small smile on your face. “I think so.” One of your hands slides across the heated skin of my stomach and I exhale quickly. “Yes.” And you kiss me with finality.

Your lips are so soft and so insistent on mine, I nearly forget the apprehension I feel about what we’re about to do. Your hands dance up my torso, smoothing along the underside of my breasts, and the skin tingles madly wherever you touch. I want to reciprocate, and am reaching for the buttons on your top when I feel your palms brush across my nipples. I break the kiss with a gasp, my eyes sliding shut. “Oh god…” My hands clutch at fabric fitfully as your fingers rub gently at my breasts, making small circles around the areola and sending heat straight to my very core.

“Off,” you say simply, moving your hands from my breasts to bunch up the fabric of my shirt with the intention of removing it.

My eyes fly open and I stay your hands with mine. “Right here?” My lips twitch with a smile. “I do have a highly functional bed back there, you know.” I incline my head towards the dark hallway.

You laugh softly and follow my gaze. “We should perhaps test that, hmm?” You untangle yourself from me and take a step out of the room, casting a wicked glance over your shoulder. “Coming?”

Delight bubbles up inside of me. “Fuck yes I am.” You raise an eyebrow at the harsh language and I grin at you. “You don’t know where you’re going.”

You snicker. “The flat isn’t that large, Cho. I think I can manage.” And you disappear around the corner.

For a second, I can’t think, then I remember the end table that’s been sitting in my hallway while I try and decide where to put it. “Oi, watch out for the—“

“Ouch!”

“—table!”

“Merlin!” By the time I reach you, you’re straightening up and rubbing your shin with an scowl on your face. “You’re a slob.”

I snort. “Having an end table in a hallway for a day makes a person a slob?” I walk over to you and bend down to examine the injury. “I haven’t decided where it should go yet.” I smile up at you smartly. “You’re the one who went tearing off down the hallway in the dark.”

You have a decided pout on your lips. “How was I supposed to know?”

A smile curves onto my lips as I run my fingers lightly over the sore spot. “No blood. You’ll have a nasty bruise,” I say while standing, unhesitatingly keeping mere inches between us, “but I daresay you’ll survive.” Before you can say anything, I kiss you hard and fast, leaving you gasping for breath and my own breathing shallow, then take your hand and walk toward the bedroom.

***

You have a glint in your eye and I must admit I am curious as to what you have in mind. I’ve never thought about it before, being with a woman, but I assume it’s much like being with a man in the ways that count, minus the final sticky grunty in-out bit. Our activities thusfar have proven my theory correct, except for one difference – softness. You’re soft. Your skin is soft and your kisses are soft and your words are soft. And at this moment, that’s quite all right with me.

You stop at the edge of the bed and indicate that I should sit. I raise an eyebrow at you but sit, then am startled when you slowly sink down and place a kiss on the injured spot of shin. A ripple of sensation runs up my leg and I can’t help but gasp. Then you kiss the inch above that spot, then an inch higher, and again and again and again, pushing my skirt up slowly, until i’m leaning heavily on my hands, my head falling back and my breath coming in shallow gasps. My body’s heating up exponentially and I can feel silky wetness in my knickers, which you’re nearly reaching with your kisses, making anticipation wash sweetly over my body. Then you trail your lips down the other leg and I bite my lip in frustration.

“Tease.” My voice comes out incredibly breathily and I flush a bit with embarassment.

This amuses you, and you slide up my body to kiss me lingeringly. “Patience, Hermione.” Then you smile sheepishly. “I’m trying to figure out how this works, you must realize.”

I try not to laugh too giddily. “I know. And it’s perfectly all right.” I run my hand down your side, tracing the curve of your bum lightly. “That was going just fine.” I kiss you softly, tracing the line of your lower lip with my tongue. “Honestly, your hands or lips anywhere on me is proving just fine.”

You raise an eyebrow the corner of your mouth turns up. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Your eyes stay on mine, and I open my mouth to inquire when suddenly I feel your fingers on the inside of my thigh. My body shivers and I bite back a gasp. Your gaze is steady and I can’t look away, even as your fingers stroke startlingly close to the fabric of my knickers. Then across said fabric.

It’s a light touch but anticipation shoots through me and I can’t help but let out a soft moan. “Please…”

Your eyes narrow hungrily and you kiss me, your tongue stroking mine with urgency. Your finger finally slips under the soft fabric and delves into my dampness. And I am damp. There’s something about kissing you that has aroused me far beyond anything I have yet experienced in my life, and I feel like I’m surrounded by want, as if I’m going to drown in it.

With the touch of your hand, my mouth tears away from yours. “Oh…” is all I can manage. You chuckle and trail kisses along my jawline. I tilt my head back, letting my eyes slide shut as sensation washes over me. Your finger runs down my slick folds, grazing my entrance lightly then stroking upwards teasingly, never quite finding where I want you most. I would complain except your lips have found their way down my neck to my breasts, and are exploring them deliciously. Lightening shoots through my veins as you take a nipple into your mouth, and I cry out, thrusting my hips against your hand.

You pay due attention to the other nipple, your fingers lazily exploring my intimate parts, until I’m twisting beneath you, feeling as if my body is wholly out of my control. Then I feel you retreat, your hand sliding out from underneath my knickers and your mouth leaving my breast. I stifle a groan and open my eyes—only to see you kneeling in front of me, your mouth inches from the skin your hand just vacated. Suddenly my throat is very dry.

Softly, with a bit of hesitation, you press your lips against the fabric right over the top of my folds and linger there for a moment. A small smile curves along my face as I watch you surrepticiously inhale my scent. You look up, flush a little, and smooth your hands up my thighs, your thumbs reaching to hook onto my knickers. I lift my hips, trying to ignore the nervous sweat i feel prickling at my skin, and you slide the damp fabric away from my body.

“I figure I should at least give it a go.” There is a twist to your lips and a twinkle in your eye. You carefully set my knickers aside and push my knees apart gently. The fabric of my skirt easily bunches around my waist and suddenly I am completely open to you. I feel the immediate urge to close my knees but you keep your hands on them, giving me a look. “I want to. You’re beautiful.” I’m still not convinced. Honestly, how can it turn out to be anything short of unpleasant? “Give me a chance. Just…you know…have some patience?” You tickle the inside of my knee and I let out a decided squeal. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

Before Hermione has a chance to reply, Cho slides her tongue along the outer edges of Hermione’s cunt. Hermione sucks in a breath. Exploring, Cho tastes every inch, tonguing down to her entrance and all along the inner folds. Then she reaches the clitoris and a cry escapes Hermione’s lips. Cho repeats the motion, and Hermione moans instead, her hips moving in an uneven circle.

“Yes—please—” The words are barely intelligable but Cho smiles, then darts her tongue back out again. And again and again and before long Hermione’s shuddering little shudders and touching Cho’s forehead to ease her away.

Cho’s eyes widen as she sits back. “Really? Already?”

Hermione looks awfully surprised also. “Yes. Small, but yes.” She pauses. “Very odd.”

Cho’s face becomes a mask. “Sorry…”

Hermione instantly reaches for her. “No, don’t be. It was lovely regardless.”

Cho’s countenance remains unreadable. “Right.”

Hermione tugs at her hand and kisses her lightly. Cho deepens the kiss without hesitation, and Hermione makes a surprised sound as their tongues collide and share her taste. She pulls back and makes a face. “That’s what it tastes like?”

Cho laughs. “Don’t like?”

Hermione runs her tongue over her lips. “I’m not sure.” She looks up. “I’ll have to give it a try.” She hesitantly weaves her fingers in with Cho’s and pulls her back on to the bed beside her. “…sometime in the future.” She bites her lip and stares at Cho.

Cho looks at her for a moment, then puts a light kiss on Hermione’s nose. “There’s always opportunity.”

Hermione’s face lights up and she kisses Cho thoroughly. “Indeed there is.”

***

They compliment each other, Harry decides. Dark and light, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, jock and bookworm. So alike – technically – but oh so different. A smile curves on his face, thinking of a blonde presence in his bed last night. _Feels vaguely familiar._ Perhaps in difference there is strength, and comfort in the parts that overlap.

END


End file.
